Gone, Gone, Gone
by SnowRedWings
Summary: JillXChris. OneShot. A small examination of the night at the Spencer mansion. Sad/Angst.


He couldn t take his eyes off her. It was in the way she walked, how she tilted her head just so when she was sitting at her desk, the way her hands splayed across her lap when she took a break from typing up a report, that soft sigh when she leaned back against the chair and looked up at the ceiling. She had him trapped in a daze, and she didn t even realize it. Chris Redfield has been sitting across from Miss Jill Valentine since they were assigned to each other, at the start of it all. Every day, he entered the S.T.A.R.S. office to see her sitting in her rolling chair with a smile plastered on her beautiful face. She would pick up his desk, leaving a sticky note with a smile stuck to the side of his monitor.

They were polar opposites, her desk always spotless while his looked like a dump site. He would throw himself into his chair, the plastic groaning against the force of it though he was a slender man, peeling the note from the screen and placing it in his desk drawer. The one that locked, so she couldn t see that he had kept every little sentiment from her, each word of praise and every little smiling face. He would frown at her, as if what she had done bothered him but it was hard to pretend to be upset when she beamed at him. Eventually, the mask of disapproval he wore would fall and he would smile back at her. That was when the day started - when he saw her face.

Even now, years later, he was still spellbound by her. They were approaching the Mansion of Ozwell E. Spencer, arriving just before a vicious storm let itself loose over the land. The two of them were still working together after all this time, partners until the bitter end one of the members of the squad at commented before they had taken leave of Raccoon City. Chris never heard from that man again.

"I'm right behind you," Jill murmured to reassure him as he hesitated, her voice crackling over the small speaker buried in his ear. She was a few feet away but spoke so quietly against the wind that he had only heard her through her throat mic. She stepped closer, patting his forearm to comfort him. He peered down at her, most of her face obscured by the bill of her hat - he could still see that dazzling smile.

"I just can't shake the feeling something is going to go wrong tonight." He replied, starting towards the house. She followed after him, breaking into a light run. Of course something was going to go wrong. It was a dark and stormy night, the precursor for all terrible events. It set Jill on edge, more so than Chris, her smile has wavered when she tried to let him know things would be okay. He pretended like he hadn't noticed.

"Just relax, Chris," Her voice was mellow in his ear as she followed him up the steps, pressing against the other opposite side of the door. They didn't even have to check the knob to know it would be locked. Instead, Jill nodded curtly and dropped to her knee in front of the door to work her skills. After a few moments, it popped open quietly. Inside was dark, too dark.

"Kinda takes you back, doesn't it?" He commented darkly, referring to the first mansion incident that had changed their lives forever. He didn't have to turn and look at her face to know that it held a slight scowl. Her foot steps were quiet behind him, her gun held at the ready. It had been so long, and even now, thinking of that night conjured bad images in his mind. Repressing a shudder he peered around the dim entry way, eyes adjusting to the lack of illumination.

"Chris, wait..." He stopped when he felt her hand brush against his arm. Turning towards her, he arched a brow curiously. Again, her face was hidden by that damn obnoxious hat, his hand moving to push it back slightly so he could see the expression she held. Her teeth worried at her perfect lower lip, her oculars avoiding his uncharacteristically.

"Are you scared?" He wasn't teasing her this time, his voice low and serious as he took her free hand in his. Her smooth fingers instantly gripped his firmly, conveying what her voice refused to say - I'm scared of losing you. Perhaps, that last part was what his heart desired and not really what she meant to tell him. To find out, he pressed her a bit further, "Tell me what's wrong, Jill. You can talk to me, I'm your partner." The last part brought a shakey smile to her mouth, her eyes finally meeting his. Those same eyes he had been looking at for a long time. Not matter how long they were apart, he could still understand the emotion flickering through them; she couldn't hide anything from him.

"I have that feeling too... That something is going to go wrong... I just wanted.." Jill's voice wavered, her left arm sliding upwards to reholster her gun, the now empty hand moving her mic away from her neck. This was so unlike her it frightened Chris. She always had a keen sense of impending doom - it had saved their asses more than once. Giving her fingers a light caress with his thumb, he waited patiently for her to speak. "To tell you, that no what happens.. You'll always be my partner."

He smiled gently at her, placing his gun home so he could place his gloved palm against her cheek. Her skin was smooth against his rough fingertips, just like he knew it would be. Of course, it wasn't the first time they were this close but it was the first moment he had ever been so gentle with her, so understanding. Mirroring his smile, she placed her hand over his and stood silently for a moment, allowing him to bend down and grace her with a tender kiss. They were two shadows, melting together - becoming angels when the lightning outside brightened the windows at their backs.

A loud belt of thunder broke the peaceful moment, spurring them into action. Pulling their guns, they went about solving the puzzles that every location they went to seemed to hold. Radioing HQ about the bodies, they proceeded like wraiths through the abysmal mansion. Only when a slight echoing laugh reach their ears did they run.

"Is that -"

"No, don't even say it!" Chris interrupted, not wanting to hear the words no matter how true they were. She was at his side as they raced through the hall, throwing up the library doors. Albert Wesker stood near the corpse of Ozwell, that same smirk on his face.

"Wesker!" Chris called furiously, his face bending into a visage of pure rage. That fucking traitor had the nerve - He was deaf to what he was saying, the sound of blood in his ears killing all noise that tried to pass through. Then he was rushing them as they were running at him. Guns were firing, fists were colliding, the painful sound of bodies slamming against wood, each other.

Then Wesker had him by the throat near the window that faced the sea, churning like a pot of stew as the storm thrashed it about. Jill was gasping for air into the mic, her breathing pained. His eyes found her, over Wesker's shoulder as she pulled herself up from the floor, a hand clutching her chest. Slowly, her head started to shake. He was watching her from what felt like outside his body, watching her push away from the wall and start running - her voice screaming in his ear. What was she saying? Her face was a mask of detemination, her eyes blazing as she charged forward to be his daring rescuer.

Then the hand was gone and he hit the floor, the sound of shattering glass almost like a song compared to the utter horror that rang through her voice. Throwing himself towards the window, he was too late. Too late. He shouted her name, watching her fall further and further away until she disappeared into the black waters below. For a split second, he could have swore he saw her reach back - a trick of the lightning.

His voice was the epitome of heartbreak as he called her name, reaching for her as if he could pull her back somehow. There was nothing but static coming from her end - then nothing. As if there was never another microphone attached to it. It was the sound of emptiness. Peeling the piece away from his ear, he threw it across the room. It was worthless now. Hollow. Never again would he hear the voice of Jill Valentine through that headset, or see her smile. Slumping on the forward, his head rest weakly against the soaked window pane, the rain dampening his shoulders and hair. It tasted salty, mingling with his tears.

"Jill.." He breathed again, much softer this time, his eyes closing as he let the anguish wash over him. She was lost and so was he.


End file.
